And yet, there was a sense of promise to this call, ahint of mystery unveiled. If he was going to end his life sea-mad like hisfather, he would at least receive something in return, a gift from the darkwaters that had been his true home these past eighteen seasons more trulythan the insular huts and close-minded folk of Mourktar. He understood thatnow, and the notion filled him with equal parts terror and fascination.
At last, he reached the end of the dock, sweat soakedand gasping for breath. He cast about desperately, hoping to catch some glimpseof the mysterious creature that haunted both his waking and dreaming, proofthat he had not simply lost his wits. She was there, floating idly tothe left of his family's dory.
Even from a distance her beauty stung him with itspurity. The skin of her green-tinted face was creamy and smooth as marble, andher delicate features set his fingers twitching, so much did Morgan long totrace the curve of chin, nose, and throat. Long blue-green hair, though mattedwith moisture above the water, floated tenderly over the outline of her body.
Morgan would have dived into the chill sea that verymoment to be with her, had she not opened her full-lipped mouth and spoken.
"Greetings, Man-child, son of Kevlyn. I fearedthat you would not come in time."
Her voice was sweet and clear, her intonation fluid,making it sound to Morgan as if she sang every phrase.
Questions filled his head to bursting. Who was she?How did she know him? Why did she call him here? As he hurriedly tried todecide which one to speak aloud, he realized that the compulsion was gone. Histhoughts were his own.
He looked at the mysterious creature again, noting forthe first time the thick webbing splayed between the fingers of her hands asshe easily tread water. She tilted her head slightly to the side, obviouslywaiting for his response.
Morgan said nothing, letting the moment stretchbetween them, letting the rhythmic slap of water against dock, the wail ofearly rising gulls, and the faint rustling of the coastal wind fill the voidher compulsion had left inside of him.
He was angry, and not a little frightened. Thiscreature had used him, manipulated him, and when at last he spoke, his voicewas full of bitterness. "Of course I came. You gave me no choice."
She laughed at that, though he heard no humor in it,only a tight quaver that sounded suspiciously to his untrained ear likesadness.
"There's little choice any of us have now,lad," the creature said softly, almost too softly to be heard. Thenlouder, "But you must forgive me, Morgan. These are desperate times. Isent out the Call; you came. And a truer Son of Eldath never walked or swamupon the face of Toril."
Now it was her turn to stare, deep-colored eyeslocking on to his. Morgan felt his anger drain away, only to be replaced by hedidn't know what-embarrassment? Shame? He felt like an ungainly boy under theweight of that otherworldly gaze.
"H-how do y-you know my-my name?" hestuttered quickly, trying to focus the creature's attention elsewhere.
The sea woman chuckled, her amusement plain to hear,and said, "You mortals wear your names as plainly as a selkie does herskin. It is child's play to pluck it from you-if you know how to look forit." Her smile faded. "Ahh, but I see that I am being rude. Forgiveme, again, for it has been a long time since I have spoken with a mortal. I amAvadrieliaenvorulandral. You may call me Avadriel. I am Alu'Tel'Quessir, thosefolk your ancestors called 'sea elves,' and I need your help."
Morgan sat on the dock, stunned. Alu'Tel'Quessir. Seaelves. Morgan had only dreamed of ever seeing such a creature, and here hestood, talking to one in the flesh.
"You need my help?" he askedincredulously. "But lady-"
"Avadriel," the creature interrupted."I gave up such formalities centuries ago."
"Avadriel," he continued, choosing to ignorethe implications of the sea elf's last statement. "I'm but afisherman."
Clearly, Morgan thought, this beautiful creature whofloated up out of the depths was mistaken. Soon, she would realize this andreturn to her watery realm, leaving him alone and feeling the fool. At this moment, he didnot know which would be worse.
"A fisherman," Avadriel scoffed. "Youare far more than that, Morgan. You are one of the few mortals left who canhear the Old Song.
"Yes," she continued, noticing his look ofconfusion, "the sea has set its mark upon you, even if others of your kindfear and distrust you because of it. That is why I have come."
Here were words straight out of a bard's fancy, theyoung man thought, but could he laugh them away, dismiss them as so muchnonsense, when they came from the mouth of such a creature? Morgan's world hadspun out of control since he first saw her. He felt caught in the grip of someimplacable tide, carrying him to the depths of a black abyss. Yet, Avadriel'swords rang with the truth, and her presence gave him something to hold on to,an anchor in an otherwise tumultuous sea. Gravely, he nodded, too afraid tospeak.
Avadriel shot him a half smile and said, "It isgood to see that the children of the sun are still brave-though I fear evenbravery may not be enough to save us. You see, Morgan, a great evil hasawakened deep within the blackest abyss of the sea, leading an army of itsdark minions. Already this force has destroyed Avarnoth. Many of my people.."
The sea elf faltered, and Morgan saw the pain she hadbeen hiding burst forth, marring her beautiful features. He looked away, notwishing to intrude. After a few moments, she continued-her voice a tremulouswhisper.
"Many of my people made the journey to Sashelas'shalls, but it will not stop there. This evil grows daily, and it will sweepacross the lands of Faerûn like a tidal wave, destroying everything in itspath."
Something in her voice made Morgan look up. Avadriellooked pale, her face drained of color. He was about to ask her what was wrong,when a large wave pushed her hair aside, revealing a deep gash across her rightshoulder. Flesh, muscle, and vein were ripped apart, exposing thin white bone.
Morgan cursed softly. "Lady-Avadriel, you arewounded!"
He was angry; at himself for not noticing sooner, andat her for concealing such a thing.
How she had managed to carry on with such a grievousinjury was beyond him. Hurriedly, he searched about the wooden wharf for one ofthe small dinghies used to ferry fishermen to boats anchored away from thelimited space of the docks. He soon found one tied off near a set of rustingcrab traps. Adroitly climbing down a rickety rope ladder, the young fishermancast off and rowed the battered dinghy toward the wounded creature.
"Do not concern yourself with my well being,Morgan," Avadriel protested weakly as he neared. "My message is farmore important than my life."
Ignoring the sea elf's instructions, for he hadalready concluded that her life was far more important than his own, the youngman drew close to Avadriel and gently pulled her into the rude craft, carefulnot to further damage her wounded shoulder. The sea elf was surprisinglylight, and, despite her initial protest, offered Morgan no resistance.Carefully, he laid her down, folding his sweater under her head for a pillowand covering her naked body with a weather-worn tarp.
Avadriel's skin was cold to the touch, and her oncebright eyes began to glaze over. Even so, she reached out to him with herwebbed hands, turning her head to reveal three gill slits running througheither side of her delicate throat. He bent down to her, fascinated as theslits sucked noisily in the air.
"Morgan. . you. . must listen," shewhispered unevenly. "There is something you must… do … something…" Her voice trailed off into silence.
At first, he thought she must have died, for her gillslits had stopped opening, but his fears were allayed when her chest began torise and fall shallowly. Avadriel was sorely wounded, but by the gods, Morganthought, she was alive.